Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  “How was Kansas City?” Molly adjusts her ponytail as River’s dog runs circles around us. River’s getting caught up on field work tonight, so I thought I’d take the truck and pick up the dog from the Fasthorses. “Is your grandmother okay?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. She gave us a good scare.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Molly follows me to the truck, opening the lift gate for me and whistling for the dog to hop in. “Everything going okay with the two of you? That’s an awful lot of time to spend together, close quarters and all.”

  “Molly …” I groan. “You’re killing me.”

  She grins. “I can’t help myself. Back in high school, I was known as the Queen of Matchmaking. Three-fourths of the couples I set up went on to get married. I have a gift. I see people, and I just know when it’s right.”

  “I like him, okay?” I blurt out. “I like him a lot. More than I thought I would. And I don’t know what to think.”

  Molly’s eyes widen and she does a little jump. “I knew it!”

  “But how much of this is forced proximity?” I ask. “Maybe it’s a convenience thing. I’m a woman, about his age, living in his house … he’s lonely … I’m right there …”

  “Stop. Stop it right now. Don’t second-guess this. It’s real. Trust me, if he didn’t like you, you’d know. And you’d probably be staying at Edna Greenfield’s cat-infested bed and breakfast.”

  “Did I tell you I stayed there? My first night?”

  “You didn’t …”

  “Found out the next day that I’m allergic to cats.”

  Molly covers her mouth, subduing a laugh.

  “Anyway,” she says. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself here. I’ve got to get back inside. Got some tomatoes stewing on the stove. Let me know if you ever want to experience the joys of canning.”

  I give her a wave and climb into the cab of River’s truck, dropping off the dog before driving to town to get some groceries. River lives off frozen dinners and frozen … everything … and yet somehow his body looks like he walked off the cover of Men’s Fitness.

  That’s a rancher for you.

  Pulling into the Green Diamond Food Mart, I grab a cart and pull up the list I made on my phone. Pushing past the sliding automatic doors, I spot Karly up ahead, inspecting avocados before choosing the perfect one.

  “Karly,” I stop beside her. “Hi.”

  It takes her a second for my face to register. “Leighton! What are you doing here? I mean, duh. You’re grocery shopping. Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Wasn’t expecting to run into you. I’m used to bumping into the same old mugs.”

  “River’s getting low on groceries. Thought I’d wean him off that processed junk he lives off of and show him how to eat like a yuppie health freak.”

  “River?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Oh, I could’ve sworn I told you? I’m staying with River McCray. He lives in my old house. I didn’t tell you that?”

  Her smile fades. “River McCray, huh? That’s a name you don’t hear too much anymore.”

  “You know him?”

  Her brows rise. “Of course I know him. Everyone around here knows River. Or they know of him.”

  “How do you know him? He’s older than us. We didn’t go to school with him.”

  “The McCrays went to our church,” she says. “I always had a crush on River growing up. Seth too. They were both drop-dead gorgeous … the kind of boys you stare at when you’re tuning out a boring Sunday sermon.” She chuckles. “Anyway, River was always so dark and mysterious to me. He was friendly, but he didn’t make rounds the way Seth did. He always kept a careful distance. Had a smile that could make a girl weak in the knees though. I’d never forget a smile like that.”

  My heart warms when I think of River, and how I hope to see more of that smile someday soon.

  “Anyway, I’m rambling.” Karly wags her hand. “He was always so nice until about twelve years ago. Something happened and it changed him. It was actually right around the time you guys moved. He was never the same after that. He stopped making eye contact, stopped smiling altogether. It’s like someone flipped a switch and he put this wall up, even bigger than the one before. Of course, I was just a young girl. Maybe that was just my perception of things.”

  “He’s really nice,” I say. “He took me in when he didn’t have to and gave me a place to stay.”

  Shock registers across her face. “That’s, um, that’s interesting. I know a lot of people said he kind of pulled into his shell after his family was killed in that car accident. So sad … I’m assuming you know about that?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, after Allison died, he was never the same. At least from what I hear. I’ve seen him around town a few times, but I haven’t talked to him.” She chews her lip. “I am curious though about what happened twelve years ago. That’s something I never did figure out, and it always bothered me because I didn’t know if I was imagining it or not. And it was right around the time you lost your dad, so maybe I was just projecting.”

  “Projecting what? Karly, what are you saying?”

  “I don’t want to point fingers.” Her eyes rest on mine and she hesitates. “There were rumors after you left … that the McCrays had something to do with the hit-and-run. River … specifically.”

  My heart freefalls and my mouth dries before I have a chance to respond.

  I don’t want to believe this.

  I refuse to believe he’s capable of something so horrific.

  Karly reaches for me, placing her hand on my arm. “Leighton, you okay?”

  “Do you … do you think it’s true?” My eyes blur and mist, but I blink away the urge to submit to this ridiculous theory just yet.

  She shrugs, rubbing my arm like that could possibly comfort me at a time like this. “It’s just a rumor. People talk all the time. It’s probably nothing.”

  “They wouldn’t point fingers at River for no reason, right? There had to be a reason. Somebody saw something?”

  “It was so long ago, sweetie. I have no idea. I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew it would get you worked up.”

  “For twelve years, we’ve had to live with not knowing who left my father there to die.” My voice trembles, and from the corner of my eye, I see a woman watching us, listening in, but I don’t care. “I don’t want to believe it was him, Karly. It can’t be him.”

  “Ask him,” she says. “His reaction should tell you all you need to know.”

  My heart races, my palms sweat. “I have to go.”

  I have to get home.

  I have to talk to him.

  I have to put this ridiculous theory to rest as soon as possible.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  River

  “You’re back early.” I climb down from my tractor, strutting up to Leighton as she leans against the side of my truck, arms folded. I lean down to kiss her, but she turns her cheek. The back of the truck is empty. Not a single grocery bag in sight. “What’s going on?”

  My stomach is hard as a rock, and she looks like she’s about to be sick.

  “Is it Seth?” I ask. “Did that son of a bitch bother you?”

  “River.” Her eyes snap to mine, and she seems to be on the verge of tears. “Twelve years ago this month, my father was coming back from checking on his cattle because one of our neighbors called and said we had a gate knocked down. It was a Saturday night. It was the middle of the night. Maybe two in the morning? Three? We’re not entirely sure. He was driving down a gravel road a few miles west of here when someone hit him. His truck was hit on the side, flipping him upside down. He landed in a ravine. His seatbelt jammed.” Her gaze falls to my boots and her bottom lip trembles. “He drowned because he couldn’t get free. Whoever hit him drove off. Didn’t even try and help. Someone could’ve cut him free. Someone could’ve saved him. Instead they left, like a fucking coward, and they left him there to die.” Tears streak her cheeks, but she smears them away w
ith angry swipes. “He didn’t have to die. He didn’t deserve to die. Our family was destroyed that night, all because someone was afraid to do the right thing.”

  My heart pounds in my ears, her words becoming tinny and distant.

  This is the past coming full circle, just as I always knew it would.

  And this is why I don’t deserve her.

  This is why I don’t deserve happiness.

  I stole her happiness, the universe stole mine.

  “Karly said there are rumors …” her voice breaks. “People say you had something to do with it … tell me it’s not true, River.”

  I lick my lips, wondering how the hell I’m going to break this to her in a way that won’t shatter her world more than it’s already been shattered.

  “Oh my god.” Her shaking fingers cover her lips, her brown eyes round as saucers. She looks at me like the monster I am. “It was you. You left him to die. You killed my father.”

  “I’m sorry, Leighton. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Shaking her head, she turns away from me, striding back to the house as if she can’t get away from me fast enough. I don’t chase her. I don’t follow her. I let her go, because offering her comfort at this point would be sick and cruel, and the world’s already been cruel enough to her.

  Falling to my knees, I squeeze my eyes tight, feeling hope slip from my fingertips, dissipating into nothingness.

  I had no business feeling that kind of hope to begin with.

  And I damn well knew better.

  I’m going to do the right thing—what I should’ve done years ago before Seth convinced a young, terrified version of myself out of coming forward.

  But it ends now.

  I’m going to turn myself in.

  Leighton wheels her suitcases out of the front door twenty minutes later. She won’t look at me, but I watch her. I watch her go, and I let the pain of this moment sink in because I need to feel it.

  And this punishment? It’s only the beginning.

  But I won’t feel sorry for myself … I’ve earned it.

  Leighton’s car kicks dust and gravel as she speeds out of my driveway and down the road, and I lean against my truck, frozen, unable to move, replaying this moment again and again like some masochistic asshole.

  I’m seconds from heading inside when Molly Fasthorse’s Suburban pulls up.

  “River, what the hell is going on?” she hops out. “I just saw Leighton speeding down the road, bawling her eyes out.”

  My mouth tightens. I hate that she’s hurting, and I’ll never forgive myself as long as I live.

  “You got a minute?” I ask, arms folding.

  I’ve never told this story to anyone … at least not out loud … but I’ve replayed the moment in my head more times than I could possibly count.

  “What the hell is going on? You’re scaring me.” Molly yanks her sunglasses from her face. “Tell me what the hell is happening here. She was literally at my house a couple hours ago telling me how much she liked you.”

  Fuck.

  “Twelve years ago, Seth was back home on leave from the army,” I say. “We went out drinking, he and I and a friend of his. They were getting hammered and they made damn sure I was too. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I didn’t realize what a lightweight I was, but they were slamming them back, and like an idiot, I was trying to keep up. We went from bar to bar over in Keyapaha, staying until closing time at this little pub on Main Street. Anyway, the next thing I know, we’re piling into Seth’s truck to come home, and the last thing I remember, I’m sitting behind the driver’s seat, buckled in, and the truck is stuck in a ditch. Seth and his friend are yelling at me, saying I crashed the truck. There was blood on my forehead and my hands and blood on the steering wheel. We were all covered in blood … mostly broken noses and busted lips from the airbags and shattered glass.”

  Molly hangs onto my every word, her jaw falling and her hand covering her eyes.

  “The two of them pushed the truck out of the ditch as I steered, and somehow we made it home. Our parents were none the wiser,” I say. “The next day, they were saying on the news that a local man had been killed overnight, his truck had been hit and flipped over. He drowned. Seth told me I’d hit him. And when I asked why we didn’t stop to help, he said the guy was already dead and he didn’t want me to be sent away for murder. He told me I’d get in even more trouble if I came forward, leaving the scene of a crime or something.”

  “River …”

  “I was young. And I was terrified. And I was a goddamn moron,” I say. “If I could go back and change it, I would.” I release a forceful breath, remembering how Seth put the fear of God into me every chance he got, doing everything he could to ensure I kept my mouth shut. “Several years went by and the guilt ate away at me, kept me up at night, gave me nightmares. I was about to turn myself in … and then I met Allison.”

  Molly places her hand on my arm. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I refuse to believe this.”

  “I’m telling you, that’s the story,” I say. “That’s what happened. I was there.”

  Her lips form a straight light. “This has Seth written all over it.”

  My brows meet. “I did it. I was behind the wheel.”

  “How do you know Seth didn’t move you there after the crash? Do you remember getting in the driver’s seat that night?”

  “We were all plastered. I don’t remember anything between leaving the bar and waking up with blood on my face.”

  Folding my arms, I pull in a deep breath. Seth and I were in a good place back then. He’d gone away to the military for a few years and when he came back, he said he wanted to spend time with me, get to know me all over again. He apologized for tormenting me when we were younger, admitting he let his jealousy get the best of him, and he wanted to make up for it.

  I was still young and impressionable, and I followed him like a lost puppy, buying everything he was selling.

  It wasn’t until after the accident, when Seth’s manipulative ways came out to play again, I realized he was still a snake. And for the last twelve years, he’s been holding that secret over my head, leveraging it any time he needed me to cover for him.

  “I just want this to be over,” I say. “I need to come forward. Leighton’s family needs justice.”

  “But you didn’t do anything.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” Molly says, getting in my face. “You’re a good person. You would’ve stopped and helped. You would’ve gotten help. Seth is the one who made you drive away. Seth is responsible for that man’s death, not you.”

  “The law’s going to care more about who was behind the wheel than whose idea it was to lead the getaway,” I say. “Besides, it’s been so long, it’s going to be his word against mine.”

  “What was the name of the other guy who was there with you that night? Maybe he can corroborate this?”

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t even begin to tell you. Some army buddy of his who stayed with us for a while. Never saw him again after that.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like? Anything?”

  I snuff. “He had a thick scar on his forehead, kind of right over one eyebrow. And he had brown hair. That’s about it.”

  “I’m going to find him.”

  “Good luck.” I roll my eyes.

  “I’m serious. I can find anyone on social media. Anyone. I’m going to find this guy, and I’m going to get him to come forward.”

  “Like he’s going to want to implicate himself.”

  “You never know.” Molly chews on her lower lip before hopping back into her Chevy like a woman on a mission. “That damn Seth.”

  She slams the door and peels away. I’m not even sure why she was over here in the first place, but none of it matters now.

  There are more important things to tend to.

  As soon as I get my estate affairs in order, I’m going to do what I should’v
e done twelve years ago.

  I’m turning myself in.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Leighton

  “You sure you don’t need me to call someone for you?” The pawnshop owner hunches over his glass counter as I slide my iPad Pro toward him. I’m sure I look like a hot mess with bloodshot eyes, ruddy cheeks, and messy hair, but I don’t care.

  “How much for this?” I ask. “It’s the latest generation, tons of storage. Like new.”

  I don’t need it, not when I need gas money and enough for a hotel to catch some sleep on my way back to Arizona. Harold said he’d pay me in person, in cash, and if I can just make it there, I can collect my wages and figure out my next step. I might be running on fumes by the time I pull into Scottsdale, but I’ll get there.

  The man inspects it carefully, pressing the home button and swiping through the apps. It was a belated birthday gift from Grant after he’d missed my birthday this year. He purchased me the “Pro” version because it was the most expensive, and therefore he believed it to be the best. Never mind that I only ever used it for social media, online shopping, and curating a frivolous collection of pool-worthy pop songs.

  “It’s completely up to date, and I’ve just reset it to the factory defaults. I have the charger and the protective case. There’s not a single scratch on the glass. You can’t even tell it’s been used,” I say.

  “Two hundred.” His chin juts forward.

  My chest tightens. I can’t get home on two hundred bucks unless I sleep in my car and subsist off dollar-menu garbage, and even then it’s not a sure bet.

  “This is worth more than two hundred dollars,” I say. “It was almost thirteen hundred dollars brand new.”

  “You got the receipt?” he asks, slipping a toothpick between his teeth.

  “No, but you can pull up the Apple website and look,” I say, pulling out my phone. “Want me to show you?”

  “Three hundred,” he says.

  “No.”

  “Lady, this is a pawnshop.” He pulls the toothpick from his mouth and cocks his head. “You do know how pawnshops work, right?”